


Myths in a Space Castle: Adventures in... Eurgh!

by EboniObsydian



Series: Myths in a Space Castle [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien instincts, Bonding, Centaur Lance (Voltron), Dragon Shiro (Voltron), Embarrassed Lance, Gen, Gorgon Pidge (Voltron), Naga Keith (Voltron), Shedding, Snakes and Horses AU, Troll Hunk (Voltron), gross stuff happening, instincts, polarspaz, scent rolling, sick fic - kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 07:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16214216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EboniObsydian/pseuds/EboniObsydian
Summary: Gross things happen to the paladins.





	Myths in a Space Castle: Adventures in... Eurgh!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [F31](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=F31), [The_Sickfic_Sideblog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sickfic_Sideblog/gifts).



> Originally going to be included in the main fic, _Why it sucks to be a snake in space_ , I have changed the way that story ended so this little gem has no place in that fic. 
> 
> I dedicate this fic to the archive readers F31 and GeekQwerkee who wanted a shedding Keith. I have been wanting to write this scenario ever since I started the _Myths in a Space Castle_ series.

“Keith! Keith!” the shouts of his teammates rang through the coms in his helmet. Seething and pressing his left hand against the ground, his right shoulder burning and tingling and just downright not feeling good, he managed to say, “I'm... alright.” His bayard lay on the ground at his side where it had clattered an arm's length away, abandoned by his left hand. It glowed and disappeared in an unseen gust, storing itself back in whatever space existed beyond the port on his side.

Opening his eyes, which he wasn't aware he had closed, he both heard and smell tasted incoming Galra drones. “Just perfect,” he cursed, struggling to right himself after being blasted through the wall. Ignoring the pain and discomfort as best he could, he used his left hand to push himself up, immediately grasping his right shoulder and hissing. “Guys, I'm not in a good position right now. I think my shoulder is dislocated; I can't move my arm.” Trying to ease the discomfort, he grabbed his right arm and held it tight to his side.

“I'm locked on your location,” Pidge said. “Hunk, you're the closest. Can you get to Keith?”

The sound of the troll's cannon ceased for a bit as he answered, “In just a tick. Keith, can you hold out?”

Keith was moving away, looking for a place to hide, cursing his long tail. “I've got sentries incoming; I don't know how many.”

BLAM! “I'm clear here. On my way. I know it's tough but try to find a place to hide.”

“Hard to do when you're four and a half meters long, Hunk,” Keith complained, but kept moving, eyes scanning for an adequate place to lay low.

“Keith, turn to your left, there's an empty room nine meters ahead,” Pidge instructed.

“Got it!” Moving as fast as he could, he found the room, door closed of course, and slammed the panel with his good hand. It was as if the door was opening in slow motion, Keith's heartbeat raging in his ears, muffling the sound of the approaching sentries. The moment when the door was wide enough, he squeezed through, yanking his tail in with fervor.

The room was dark with scant furniture; for all appearances, it looked like an office. Quickly, he coiled up and hid behind the desk. The echoing sounds of sentry footsteps walked right past him. He sighed, grimacing as his right shoulder was jostled.

It seemed like an hour before the naga heard the troll's voice, not through the coms but close by. “Keith! I'm here!”

Gingerly, the pain in his shoulder growing as his moved out from behind the desk, he called out, “In here!” Pushing the control to open the door, he found Hunk standing in front of him, back facing him. “Is it clear?”

“Yeah.” Lowering his cannon, he looked Keith over, noticing the broken vambrace. “Keith, can you move your fingers?” The naga immediately looked down at his right hand, instantly understanding what the troll meant; he hadn't noticed the broken armor in his initial evaluation. Experimentally, he wiggled them. “Yeah. Makes my arm hurt though.”

Hunk peered into the dark room, scanning the area for something to use as a sling. On the wall behind the desk was some sort of banner with the Galra emblem painted on it. Letting his bayard vanish next to his thigh, he tore the banner down and easily ripped it in two, using one of the strips to support Keith's limp arm and the other to hold the arm against Keith's torso, freeing up his left hand. Keith nodded, allowing the troll to take point as he summoned his bayard from the unknown space, the action mirrored by Hunk.

“Pidge, have you got what we came for?” Shiro asked, grunting with exertion as he drove his hand through something.

“Done and done. Let's blow this joint!”

“Everyone, retreat to your Lions!”

“Right!” the team chorused.

“Princess, Lance, how is it outside?”

“They're drawing back. I don't like it. You better hurry out of there, all of you,” Allura answered, blasting a few more drone ships.

Suddenly, everyone heard a loud crash and the scraping of metal on metal. Keith and Hunk were the closest to the source, having been racing down an empty hallway, and turned to see metal claws tearing away at the side of the Galra cruiser; their helmets instantly sealed themselves and the rest of Keith's armor manifested from the flexible armor spine along his tail, sealing his entire body against the vacuum of space before it began its thievery of the atmosphere. Red's eye peered through the hole she had just created and then her open mouth was up against it. “Keith, you're going to give your Lion an ulcer or a heart attack if you keep getting yourself into trouble,” Hunk commented.

“Shut up and get in,” the naga retorted, letting his bayard return to his side so he could use his good arm to help maneuver himself into his Lion while Hunk covered him. Once he was in, Hunk followed. Red quickly closed her mouth and opened the back of it, admitting the two to the cockpit. Keith slid into the pilot's seat and grabbed the lever on his left with his hand, using the tip of his tail to control the right side.“Hang on, Hunk. It's going to be a rough ride.”

Hunk grabbed the back of the chair and braced himself. “Just go!”

Keith flew through the battle as smoothly as he could, feeling Red's assistance in his mind. With Lance providing a distraction with is cover fire, Keith quickly closed the distance to the docking bay that Yellow was waiting in, his barrier up. The instant Hunk spotted the bay, he left the cockpit and returned to Red's closed mouth. She landed and lowered her head, opening her jaw as she did so. Hunk jumped down the moment the fall damage wouldn't cause injury, stumbling as he ran towards his Lion. Once the troll was safely inside, the two Lions left, followed by Black on their six and Green on their nine.

“Princess, open a wormhole!” Shiro requested as team Voltron got closer to the castleship.

“Wormhole in three... two... one!” Coran answered. Sections of the cruiser behind them began to explode in a brilliant, satisfying fashion as each Lion and the castleship pierced the center of the wormhole entrance, leaving the battle behind.

* * *

Everyone was crowded in the infirmary when Coran arrived. Keith was starting to pale as the adrenaline of battle wore off. Even with the armor on, the Altean instantly recognized the dislocation. “Up on the bed, Keith,” he quickly said, getting a few things as the naga struggled to comply. Shiro, not wanting Keith to injure himself further, wrapped his flesh arm behind the naga's shoulders and his prosthetic arm under the naga's pelvis and with one quick motion lifted and laid Keith on the bed. Keith choked down a cry of surprise and pain while the other three held his tail up. Coran approached with what looked like a rubber mouth guard. “Put this in your mouth. Resetting your arm is going to hurt and you don't want to bite your tongue.”

Keith nodded, accepting the device with his left hand and inserting it in his mouth; it was big and uncomfortable, but the second Coran began jostling his right arm while taking off the makeshift slings, he was glad for it. “Lay down and relax as best you can, Keith. It will make this much easier.” 

Keith breathed through his nose and around the device in his mouth, willing his body to go slack. 

“Good, good. Now, I'm going to take your arm and move it slowly.” The Altean firmly took hold of Keith's wrist with one hand and supported the naga's bent elbow with the other. With practiced expertise, he moved the arm. Keith bit down hard on the rubber, tears threatening to drip from the corners of his eyes. He could hear the bones of his shoulder grind against each other as the ball of his arm sought out the socket of his shoulder. “Relax!” Coran repeated, firmly but in a calm voice. Again, Keith breathed in through his nose and out his crowded mouth, and just as he exhaled, the joint popped back into place. There was an instant sense of relief flooding his body as Coran gently laid his right arm along his side.

Removing the bite guard with his left hand, he groaned, “Ow.”

“Stay down so I can do a scan to look for fractures. I also need to scan your forearm to see if it's broken.”

Coran brought up a holo-screen on the opposite side of the bed Keith was resting on before grabbing what looked like a white metal detector and moving it slowly along the naga's right shoulder and down the length of his arm, the blue light conforming to the shape of his body as the data it collected manifested as a sort of X-Ray on the screen. Highlighted in red were microfractures around the socket of his right shoulder and distinct fractures nearly perpendicular to the length of the bones in his arm. Groaning, Keith slumped against the bed, his head thumping against the pillow a little more forceful than necessary. “I really wish I could fit in a pod right now.”

“Not to worry too much, Number 4. We have alternatives that, though they will take longer, of course, can still do the job.” Coran closed the holo-screen and placed the scanner aside. “Now, no fussing. Let's get you out of that armor and pressure suit.” As gently as he could, Coran removed the broken vambrace. Shiro stepped forward on Keith's other side and began removing the armor from there. Since Keith was safely inside a ship, the lower part of his armor had receded into whatever pocket of space it goes to when not in use, and the armor spine had receded into a long half skirt open at the front. “Okay, Keith. Sit up and slowly, lift your arms up so we can get this cuirass off you.”

Wincing, the naga did as was asked. Shiro and Coran made quick work of undoing the latches and lifting the chest piece over his head. Keith then made quick work of the belt around his waist that also acted as the anchor point for the armor spine, keeping his luxite blade with him. Shiro undid the pressure suit from the back and with some assistance on his right, Keith pulled it off. He wrinkled his nose as a cool draft brushed up against his bare chest.

As Shiro moved the armor aside, Coran busied himself with collecting supplies to address Keith's fractures. The naga held his injured arm against his midsection.

Coran returned with what looked like a wrist brace for his arm that was long enough to nearly reach his elbow and something that resembled a large adhesive cooling pack. “These were used before the pods were available. More advanced than old age casts and splints, they emit wavelengths that encourage and promote faster healing without stressing an individual's body. The fractures in your shoulder should heal within three quintants while the ones in your arm should take no longer than three movements.”

“Greeaat,” Keith drawled.

As Coran worked with the high tech cast, he continued, “You will still need to wear a sling to limit the physical exertion on your arm and shoulder. And no training for at least ten quintants.”

“I got it, Coran.”

When the Altean finished securing the cast, he draped the adhesive pack over Keith's sore shoulder, securing it to his skin. Keith was about to move off the bed when Coran stalled him – boy was this familiar - “Hold up a tick, Number 4. I'm going to give you an injection to help with the pain and keep further tissue damage down.”

“Better look away, Lance,” Hunk teased.

Lance frowned. “I can handle it so be quiet.”

Having prepped the syringe while Keith was focused on his teammates, not understanding the joke between the troll and the centaur, Coran moved to the naga's right side and swiftly administered the injection in the naga's upper arm. Keith did no more than wince, awkwardly rubbing the site afterward. “Can I go now?” It was obvious he was getting irritable. Everyone also suspected that Keith's instincts were on the rise as well.

“You can move off the bed while I get you a proper sling,” the Altean answered, disposing of the used syringe. Hunk, Lance and Pidge released Keith's tail in a way that allowed him to easily slide off the bed and stay upright; the belt remained on the bed. The three moved out of the way so Coran could finish treating Keith by putting the naga's arm in a sling that was similar to the setup that Hunk had done earlier. “There. I suggest you go rest now. Be sure to eat something before the end of the quintant. That injection will drop your glucose levels over time as a side effect. You might experience a headache and dizziness if you wait too long.”

Left hand around his blade, Keith nodded and quietly slithered out of the infirmary. Hunk clapped his hands in front of himself. “Well, now that we know Keith is going to be okay, I'm going to the kitchen.”

Shiro and Lance wordlessly gathered up Keith's suit and armor. “We'll debrief before dinner. Go rest up everyone,” the half-dragon instructed, hoping Keith had heard him since the naga had gone some distance from the room before anyone could protest.

* * *

Keith ached.

Getting blasted through that wall, even though it had been previously damaged by explosives, had done more than just mess up his bones. Except for most of his tail, his whole body hurt. The mythic creature part of his mind was going nuts with the need to hide and recover, and he hated it.

Slithering into the elevator, he switched his knife to his right hand and rammed his left thumb into the button for the level with the Paladin rooms, his narrow black tongue going wild. The tight space was comforting for mere seconds, but too bright. He sped out of the lift as soon as the doors opened, eager for his room. Palming the panel, his tongue slowed down as it picked up the familiar scents of his personal space.

His instincts let up too.

Sliding in, he turned his heating pad on low and the lights on ambient before curling up on his bunk, taking care not to rest on his right side. His tongue lazily flicked in and out, the bifurcated tips waving about independently a few times as his stuck his knife under his pillow before his instincts settled and he drifted off.

He gently came too at a light rapping on his door. “Keith? You awake? I brought you dinner, you know, since you probably want to stay in there for a while and Coran did tell you that you needed to eat.”

In truth, Keith didn't feel hungry. He felt... off, and not because he had just gone through a beating. But, he knew that he would worry the troll if he didn't at least accept the food his friend had gone to the effort to make him. And he was getting a slight headache. So he moved off the bed, answering, “Just a tick.” He turned the lights up to half strength, letting his eyes adjust before opening the door. Hunk stood there with a tray in both hands. On the tray was a tall cup of water and a plate loaded with seared meat. “You don't have to eat it all. I'll just feel better knowing that you at least had the chance to.”

Keith backed away from the door, entering a command in the control panel and then pointing to his small writer's desk sliding out from the wall. “Set it there.”

Hunk eagerly complied. He didn't linger, knowing that his presence was probably upsetting the snake part of his friend. Keith stalled him with a hand on the troll's arm. “Hunk... uh... thanks.”

“No problem, Keith. Focus on healing. I'll come to collect the dishes in the morning.” Instead of turning and grabbing him up in a hug, Hunk cupped Keith's free hand in both of his and squeezed it firmly; Keith appreciated the gesture. “See you in the morning then,” he smiled.

Promptly after Hunk left and the door closed, Keith turned the lights back down and contemplated the plate of meat. He let his tongue investigate it as he mulled over the decision to eat or not. The instant it smell tasted the water though, that went quickly in his mouth and down his throat. Emptied, he set the cup back on the tray and used his claws to pick up a bite-sized morsel, popping it in his mouth and swallowing it, trying to decide if he wanted to eat.

Nope.

He knew he needed to, but all he really wanted to do was to coil back up on his bed and not move for a while, not until that odd unbalanced feeling washing over him went away. Sighing, he pretty much forced himself to eat half of what was plated for him before curling back up on his bunk and drifting off to sleep.

His heating pad turned itself off when the castle's programmed night cycle activated.

* * *

“What were you able to find, Pidge?” Shiro asked, wrapping up the debriefing.

“The decryption is still running, but they know that we're not human anymore. I actually think that they believe Voltron has a new team of Paladins now.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the small table they were all sitting around, minus Keith. “News travels fast.”

“Feet on the floor, Pidge,” Shiro scolded. She complied, sticking her black tongue out at him, surprising him also by having all her snakes stick theirs out as well.

“That could be problematic,” Allura began. “If even one Galra knows anything about the races that you all resemble, bounty hunters with intentions other than turning you in to Zarkon or any of his generals for a profit will suddenly have other choices.”

“Such as...?” Lance dared to ask.

Coran shuddered visibly. “Dismemberment for the purpose of merchandising body parts on the black market. Slavery. Experimentation. Public display. Private collections. The list goes on.”

Lance cringed, hugging himself. “I'm sorry I asked.”

“Nothing we can do about it except to keep up our guard,” Shiro commented, folding his arms.

“Well, how about we put that on the back burner and eat dinner,” Hunk suggested, standing. “We had a hard fight and I'm sure everyone is hungry.”

“That sounds wonderful, Hunk,” Allura smiled.

Mutual sounds of agreement echoed after her. Following an unseen cue, they all filed out to gather in the dining room, Hunk several steps ahead of them. As they took their seats, Coran served the princess first and then helped Hunk serve the others. To be respectful to Allura, Hunk kept the serving sizes pretty equal even though they had all been informed of the increased amount of food that Keith, Lance, and Shiro needed to remain healthy. Their options were to either eat frequently throughout the day – the more ideal one – or to eat more at fewer meals. Given the long fight, Lance and Shiro hadn't had the chance to graze on their choice of food, so Hunk cooked up much more for them and left it behind. “There's more for you two back in the kitchen to have seconds and such, or eat later,” he informed when he was at their side.

“Sounds great, Hunk. Thanks,” Lance replied.

“What about Keith?” Pidge asked.

“I'm sure he wants to stay in his room. I'll bring him some afterward,” Hunk answered, taking his seat. That was the cue for everyone to dig in.

“Allura, we need to make another hunting trip soon,” Hunk announced.

“Alright. While Keith recovers, we can use the time to resupply,” she answered.

Dinner conversation was light and random as usual after that.

* * *

Early the next morning, Allura set the castle ship down outside a tempered forest area with orange and red vegetation, appearing as though it was the turn of seasons on Earth, on a somewhat rocky ground that was the base of high gray rock formations. From the bridge of the castle though, a great freshwater lake could be seen breaking up the tall trees. The group, minus Coran who remained on the bridge, was planetside, exiting the elevator. The sky was clear, so Hunk was in his armor for protection.

“Here's the plan; Hunk, Pidge, gather what you can find. Lance, act as their lookout. I'll go to the lake in full dragon form and see what I can catch,” Shiro instructed.

“Because no one in their right mind, creature or sentient alien, is going to attack a dragon on their own,” Lance commented, a smug expression on his face and tilt of his head as he folded his arms.

“Actually, given the terrain, I figured that I would be able to carry a bigger load back to the ship,” Shiro countered, rubbing the back of his head with his prosthetic, brow slightly furrowed in an embarrassed expression.

“It's good that you are becoming more accepting of your other self, Shiro,” Allura commented, her hands clasped in front of her chest; she was in her battle suit, not her dress.

He cleared his throat, fist in front of his mouth. “Okay. Everyone, move out!” Following his own words, he shifted into his large dragon form and after a few hesitant minutes, took to the sky. The other four shook their heads, amused. “Will he ever get used to the fact that he can fly outside a ship?” Pidge voiced everyone's question.

Hunk shouldered some space rucksacks while Lance shouldered a backpack filled with supplies for a day out. Pidge pulled out a device that projected a small holographic geographic map of the area. The three simultaneously checked their radios; Hunk checked his helmet and Lance and Pidge checked the ones set in their ears. “Good to go?” Lance asked. He got nods from the other two. Without further comment, they headed out.

A little over an hour later, the teammates came across a hidden meadow within the forest. The grass was high and deep green with white flowers resembling large clover blossoms peppered throughout. Lance could not help himself. “Can we take ten? Please?” he begged the other two.

Hunk grinned, reading the eagerness on his friend's face and the impatience in his fidgeting. “Yeah, why not. Go for a run, just don't exhaust yourself, we still have a job to do.”

Lance dropped the backpack, waving Hunk off. “Yeah, yeah. I wasn't born yester-quintant.” Without waiting for a retort, he leaped into the grass, running at an easy lope, making hairpin turns and thoroughly enjoying himself while Hunk and Pidge watched. Well, Hunk was studying the flowers while Pidge watched.

Lance slowed to an easy walk, breathing in the crisp scents that came with open meadows. One stuck out to him, taunting him; beckoning him. He zeroed in on it, looking at the ground, eyes scanning and nose smelling, seeking out the source. When he found it there was no mistake; hidden by the tall grass was a patch of pink flowers with many narrow petals and plump leaves growing on long vines; it looked like an alien version of the succulent red ice. He scratched at it with his right hoof, kicking up more of the scent as he crushed the leaves. It teased his sinuses and made him sneeze, but it was also intoxicating! Barely aware of what he was doing, he took off his jacket and shirt, dropped them into the grass and stepped into the patch. He circled left, then right, scratched at the patch once more and then dropped to his belly, rolling onto his back, both human and horse, and squirmed on it, essentially covering himself in the scent. He rolled back and forth, making an effort to cover as much of himself as he could. Pollen and leaves and grass stuck to his coat and got entangled in his mane but he didn't care. This smell was so heavenly!

“LANCE!” Hunk hollered, concern steeped in his voice.

That snapped him out of his trance. Hastily he got to his hooves so he could be seen. “I'm fine! I'm coming back!” Quickly retrieving his clothes, he cantered back to his friends while redressing himself.

“What the quiznak, Lance! You reek!” Pidge complained, plugging her nose.

Lance sniffed his arm, the scent muffled because it was under his clothing. “What are you saying? I don't reek.”

“Uh, buddy, you do smell. Whatever you rolled in, intentionally or not, it smells like you marinated yourself in some cologne.”

Lance sniffed his arm again before letting it drop to his side. As he retrieved and shouldered the backpack, he retorted, “Fine, fine. I'll take a bath when we get back. Unless we find a river or something, then I'll rinse off.”

“Most appreciated,” Pidge replied, releasing her nose but giving him a subtle wide berth.

Some time later as Hunk was kneeling next to a berry bush, Lance looked idly up at the canopy. Many of the trees had several clusters of yellow and orange fruits hanging from thick branches. “I wonder...” he said to himself and brought up his bayard, transforming it into its sniper rifle form. Pidge noticed the action. “What are you doing?”

“Knocking something down.”

She looked up, vaguely able to see the shape of the fruits but not their true color due to her visor. “What do you think they are?”

“Pamelos,” he answered, slightly adjusting his aim. “Think you can catch it?”

“Those big things from that high up? That's going to hurt.”

“There's some other branches and stuff that will slow their fall. Though, losing some to fall damage won't be too much of a bust. Make sure you're out of the way, I'm taking the shot.”

She stepped around until she was behind him.

He pulled the trigger.

A fruit cluster three times the size of Hunk's troll head came crashing to the ground, breaking small twigs and ripping leaves in its fall. The loud _whump_ it created startled the troll. “Huh! What?! What's going on?! Are we under attack?!” he panicked, flipping his head back and forth.

“No, Hunk. We're fine,” Lance answered, reverting his bayard and retrieving the fruit. Of the thirteen fruit, three of the big oval things were smashed open, revealing a green flesh inside and giving off a mild sweet smell. “Hey, think these are edible?”

Pidge immediately tested the exposed flesh; the results were clear. “Nothing adverse detected.” She looked up again. “Knock down one more.”

Forming his sniper rifle once more, he scanned the canopy. “Um... better not. There's local wildlife up there now and they don't look happy. I would rather err on the side of caution and leave the area.” What the centaur had spotted were three large white birds of prey, larger than an Earth harpy eagle. Three sets of four eyes were glaring at the three of them, studying them. The long black talons on the five toes of each foot pierced the bark of the branches they were perched on, digging into the wood of the tree. “Shooting my bayard might startle them enough to attack.”

“I agree with Lance,” Hunk said, bagging the fruit. “Let's quickly leave.”

All bags shouldered, the three picked a direction and as calmly as they could, walked away.

Forty minutes later, Lance heard running water at the same moment Hunk smelled it. “Guess what, Lance-” he started to say.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm going.”

“We could use this chance for a food break,” Pidge suggested as they got closer to the source.

“Sounds good. And I could use a long drink,” Lance replied.

The source of the running water was a fast-moving stream. They decided to get closer, about ten meters away from the stream's edge. Lance dropped their supply backpack and watched the water; it wasn't so fast that he would be knocked off his hooves, and if he laid belly down the water would almost go over his horse back; it wasn't deep enough to completely submerge himself. “Hunk, mind if I use the cooking pot for a bit?”

Hunk looked from Lance to the direction of the stream, then back to Lance. “If it's just to scoop water, I don't have a problem with it.”

“Yeah. I'll just be a few minutes.” He fished through the pack and pulled out a small camper's pot before approaching the stream's edge. Removing his clothes, he stepped in, shuddering at the cool temperature. Careful of the rocks beneath his hooves, he waded further and slowly eased in, pot in his hands. Dunking it in the stream, he dumped the cold contents on his head, letting the water rush down his back.

It. Burned!

He screamed, both in shock and in pain, scrambling out of the water and slipping on the river rocks in his haste. Throwing the pot in Hunk's direction, he struggled to coordinate himself enough to grab his shirt, desperate to get the water off of himself, his reasoning being that once it was off, the intense burning would stop.

“Lance! Lance?! What's wrong?!” Hunk yelled, running in his friend's direction, anxious about the centaur's pained screaming.

Patting his back with his shirt as quickly as he could while he bucked lightly, he panted, “It burns! My skin- it feels like it's on fire!”

“Lance! Stop it and get down! Let me help,” Hunk commanded. His friend only had enough awareness to kneel down on his front legs, reaching awkwardly behind himself. Hunk could see Lance's tan skin turning red almost all over his back as he grabbed for the shirt and went after what dripping water he could see. Lance squirmed violently, unable to hold still due to the pain. Only when he was mostly dry did he still, gasping and swallowing hard, arching backward as if that would ease the lingering burn. Finally feeling the ground digging into his knees, he stood back up, holding the sides of his arms, head drooping. “You okay?” the troll queried, holding the damp shirt.

Lance tried to smile but it was definitely a grimace. “It's better, but it still burns.”

Hunk looked him over, taking note of the water still soaking Lance's horse half. “The rest of you okay?”

Following the troll's gaze, he answered, “Yeah, it's just my bare skin that feels like it's burning.”

Picking up Lance's discarded jacket, he offered it to him. Lance accepted it with one hand, but eyed it as though it had insulted him; if he put it on it would most likely irritate his tender back. Without a word between them, they headed back to where Pidge was setting up camp. She was on her feet, bayard in hand, watching them. “What happened?”

“There was some sort of reaction to the water, as though he was burned by it,” Hunk readily answered while he found a suitable branch to hang the wet shirt on. “But only his top half was affected.”

“I'm glad for that,” Lance complained, digging in the dirt to smooth it out before plopping down. Pidge got a good look at his back; she could see the beginnings of blisters and welts and a bit of the swelling even though, to her, the color was off. “Was it the water or something else?” she asked.

Lance shook his head, “If it were the water, I think I would have burned my legs before my back.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I bet the water reacted to something already on my skin.”

“Like whatever it was you rolled in earlier?” Hunk asked, a hint of humor in his tone. “By the way, you still stink.”

Lance smiled sheepishly, reaching over to shove the troll. “Probably.”

“That is one instinct you need to reign in if you ask me,” Pidge commented, stepping away from the camp to find the cooking pot. “We should cut this scavenger hunt short and get back to the castle ship so Lance can get treated. I don't think we have anything in our first aid supplies to clean him up without water.”

“I agree with that idea completely,” Lance replied, settling for tying his jacket around his waist, the back of it hanging in front of him.

“Then let's go now and eat dry rations on the way,” Hunk insisted, moving to pack up what little campsite they had started to build. “Lance, I'll trade you the backpack for the food sacks. Think you can handle them draped on your horse back?”

“Shouldn't be a problem.”

“I've mapped out the quickest route out of here,” Pidge announced, holding up her holo-map.

“Good.” Hunk tied the food bags together and hung them as evenly as he could over Lance's horse back once the centaur stood. He then shouldered the backpack after Pidge had returned the contents that had been removed and pulled out jerky and dried fruits. Lance retrieved his shirt, which was still wet, and draped it over a section of his second back that wasn't occupied by a bag.

Just as they started their way back, Pidge radioed Coran to explain their situation.

* * *

Coran was just about to poke his head in Keith's room to check on the resting naga when the radio in his pocket hissed to life. “Coran, come in. It's Pidge.” The gorgon's stressed tone made him prioritize her and put checking up on Keith on the back burner; the naga was surely doing just fine and could be checked up on later. “What can I help you with, Number 5?” he asked.

“Lance came in contact with some sort of irritating plant material that can't be washed off with water without burning him. So we're coming back and will be there in about thirty-five doboshes.”

“Understood. I'll relay the information to Allura who will be waiting for you in the docking elevator. Do you have a sample of the plant with you?”

“Um... there's some caught in his coat. Will that suffice?”

“For basic testing, it should be fine. As soon as you have boarded, have Lance go to decontamination. I will meet him there with something other agents that will hopefully clean him up with minimal discomfort.”

“Alright. Pidge out.”

Coran pocketed his radio and stared at Keith's door for several seconds, debating whether he had time to check on him or not. He decided that a quick peek would be sufficient and tapped the door with his knuckle. “Keith, may I come in?”

There was no answer. Coran tried the access panel and was surprised that he was granted entry. The room was lit only by ambient lighting and the temperature that brushed against his cheeks indicated that the heating pad under Keith's bunk was on. The bunk's occupant did not move nor make a sound. “Sleeping,” Coran whispered to himself, letting the door close. “All looks well, so I better get to preparing for Lance's arrival.”

In the docking elevator, Allura helped remove and carry the food bags from Lance's back as they were lifted back to the castleship so he could hurry to decontamination. The centaur found the Altean adviser standing next to a cart of various items and containers, both tall and narrow or short and wide, wearing what appeared to be the Altean version of a surgeon's mask and latex gloves as well as a plastic-like raincoat. He waved Lance over. “Come over here, Lance, and let's get you cleaned up.”

Dropping his jacket and shirt near the door, he tried not to let his apprehension show on his face as he walked up to the man.

The first thing Coran did was collect several samples of the plant debris from Lance's chestnut coat with tweezers, placing said samples into a small clear bag. After sealing that and setting it on the cart, he instructed Lance to lay down so he could access his top half with more ease. Getting a closer look at the poor state of the centaur's back, Coran winced. Before attempting any cleaning though, he brushed a swab lightly over one of the welts and turned to his table, looking under a magnifying glass before sticking the swab underneath a small scanner that looked like a single lens microscope. “The substance on your skin appears to be oil based, hydrophobic and slightly hydro-reactive. So, I'll use a neutralizing powder to absorb the oil which can then be dusted off your skin with minimal discomfort.”

“Will that stuff also work in my hair?” Lance asked, scratching nervously at his forearm.

“It sure will. Though you will have to brush it out once it absorbs the oils.”

“That's a relief.”

“Alright then! Let's get to work!” Coran snapped the end of one of his gloves. “Oh, I forgot. I also brought an ointment to put on those burns.”

Lance just smiled; Coran seemed like the perfect boy scout.

* * *

Hunk had just finished sorting and storing the day's finds when Shiro walked into the kitchen carrying a large net about half his size over his shoulder. It was filled with golden colored fish that were the size of sockeyes. “I may have gone overboard,” he smiled lightly, brow furrowed with embarrassment.

Hunk chuckled. “Nah. Let's get those in cold storage.” The troll beckoned the half-dragon to follow him.

“How did you three fair?”

“Lance succumbed to an instinct, rolled in some acidic oily plant and ended up burning himself so we had to come back early.”

“Ouch,” Shiro winced sympathetically.

“I made it sound worse than it is. He's in his room now. Coran put ointment on the burns and rashes but because the wounds are so sensitive, Lance protested against bandages. And since he doesn't have any horse pants, he's feeling very self-conscious about walking around the castle in his birthday suit.”

Shiro pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “How long is he going to stay there?”

“Probably until he can put a shirt on and not have it rub his skin raw. So maybe two quintants, or three.”

“That is not going to be good for his restless instinct against confined spaces.”

“I'm sure he'll sneak out at night when everyone else is asleep and run laps in the training room or visit Kaltenecker.”

“What did he do on the way back?”

“Put up with it I guess. Or maybe having his jacket around his waist gave some comfort.”

Shiro swung the net off his shoulder when they reached the equivalent of a walk-in freezer. After they stepped inside, he started handing the large fish to Hunk one by one so the troll could hang them up on meat hooks that he had installed while on Oklarion. “What if he covered his second back with a large bed sheet and secured it around his waist?”

Hunk paused, holding a fish in his hands as he thought. “Now there's something I hadn't thought of. How about you go suggest that to him when we're done here.” He continued to hang the fish up.

“Alright.”

* * *

Lance was laying belly down in the middle of his room working on small sewing project when there was a knock at his door. “Lance, it's Shiro. May I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” he hesitated.

The door hissed open to admit the half-dragon. “I heard what happened today,” he immediately began. Looking at Lance's perfectly made bed, he asked, “May I sit?”

“Sure. I'm not using it obviously.”

“How is your back?” Shiro asked as he sat down, his tail curling around to rest in his lap.

“It feels like a nasty sunburn I once had when I was nine.”

“I can understand now why you don't want anything touching it,” he chuckled.

Lance grinned, looking down at his project as he continued to talk. “You know what Coran said about that plant? He said that there was something close to it on Altea that roughly translates to “The Vindictive Former Lover.”

Shiro did not know what to think of that but sensed that Lance had found some sad humor in the name. Lance muttered something under his breath that he was sure was a comment about the name. Not wanting to stall on awkward silence, he changed topics. “Hunk says that you're not comfortable walking around without any clothing on.”

Not looking up, the centaur nodded.

“Have you thought about using something as makeshift clothes? Say, something like a big skirt to go on your other half?”

Lance looked up at that, staring at the wall. “No, I haven't.” Looking at Shiro, there was a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “I've been so embarrassed about Allura and Pidge seeing me with nothing on that I haven't been able to think of anything else. Especially Allura because, you know, she's a princess.”

“Why don't you take one of the larger bed sheets that I'm sure Coran has hidden away in a linen closet located somewhere and drape it over your second back, and tie the corners around your waist to secure it. Then you'll be wearing a makeshift skirt.” As the centaur mulled over the suggestion, Shiro added, “And maybe you could use a kitchen apron for your top half; it will leave your back untouched but you will still have a type of coverage.”

Blush fading, Lance looked Shiro in the face. “I'm willing to try that.”

“Then I'll go find them for you.” The half-dragon was about to leave when his eyes were snared by the details on Lance's project. “What are you making?”

Lance blushed again, only a bit deeper. “Shortly after T-day, Allura gave me these really expensive space animal hair brushes that had been given to her when she was a little girl. I have been wracking my brain for something to give back to her in return. So I decided that a light scarf embroidered with her favorite juniberry flowers would be as close as I could get to match the value, know what I'm saying?”

“Something from the heart. I understand. I'll leave you to it then while I find Coran and get you a sheet at least.”

“Thanks, Shiro.”

Hours later, after his talk with Shiro, found Lance fidgeting and still feeling very insecure even though he was wearing an apron and a giant bed sheet, approaching Allura's private rooms. He knocked lightly, afraid that was almost too light. “A dobosh, please,” came her voice from the other side. He backed up a few steps, his fidgeting even worse, tail lashing repeatedly. He was about to lose his nerve and run just as she opened the door. “Lance? Is something wrong?” She was wearing her usual dress. Lance felt even more insecure and was blushing because of what he was about to request.

“Um... Shiro is doing his dragon thing and Hunk isn't available and Pidge is in her lab working and Keith is still isolating himself and Coran is off doing whatever he does and there are debris and bits in my hair and it really itches and I can't reach and-” he rambled before she raised a finger. “I understand, Lance. And I'll gladly help you.”

Lance heaved a visible sigh, raising the purple box she had given him so long ago, indicative of a promise made during the gifting. She smiled and accepted the box. “Since we're still planetside, let's go to the balcony. It will be much easier to clean up than a room indoors.”

Smiling, he replied, “Lead the way.”

An elevator ride down to the base floor, Allura led him to a balcony that extended off the main hall; he hadn't noticed it when they were celebrating their first victory with the Arusians. Without needing to be asked, he instantly got down on his belly, making sure his back legs were on the opposite side that the princess was on. Gathering her dress underneath her, she sat on the ground, her legs to the side and set the box next to herself. Taking out the course brush, she started to talk. “This brush is meant to be used first as a detritus remover and detangler. Should I start on your mane or would you like me to begin with your coat?”

“Mane please, Allura.”

“Alright. Please tell me if I'm being too rough.” She worked quietly and in sections, focused on her task. Lance wanted to talk about something, feeling awkward with the silence. But, what to talk about? Well, he liked to talk about family. Maybe she did too? “What was your father like when you were a kid?”

Allura smiled fondly. “He was a bit of a reckless and eccentric man before he met Mother, or so she would say, and didn't quite think through his choice of actions. I've been told that he had more than a few times gotten himself into situations where he had needed rescue by his teammates.”

“Sounds a bit like Keith.”

Allura chuckled. “Perhaps. When he married Mother and I was born, that reckless part of him changed. He still remained the eccentric inquisitive one, which likely led him to create Voltron. Despite his work, however, he still made time for family and was very protective of Mother and me.” Setting the course brush down, she picked up the softer one. “This one is something of a polishing brush. It helps gives a natural shine to one's hair, more so when used with a hair product.”

“I understand, Allura. You don't have to try and explain further.” Relaxing, he prompted, “Tell me more.”

Nodding, she continued. “Mother was the quiet and reserved type. Though she had another side to her when it came to some of Father's antics, especially when they involved me...”

* * *

Proceeding aboard the castle ship went by in a quiet manner. Though the scanners were constantly looking for any signs of the Galra, they were fortunate that all was quiet. Pidge continued to work on her search for her family between the search for a resolution to their transformation problem. Hunk experimented in the kitchen mostly and Shiro spent a lot of his time becoming more comfortable with himself, either spending time in the presence of the Black Lion in dragon form or going planetside to hunt. Lance, covered by a bed sheet and an apron, walked about the castle as he usually did, spending time with Kalteneker when he wasn't working on his project, or snacking or playing video games; given his current state, he decided he wouldn't train for a few days. When he had had enough of those, he would help keep vigil for the Galra and take turns with everyone when it came to checking up on Keith.

Oddly, they would find him sleeping, or seeming to. He would wake to their touch long enough to drink water but then relax back on his bunk and remain motionless. Each check-in, he barely spoke. On the sixth day of this pattern, Hunk voiced his concern in the common room where they were all gathered playing a board game. “I'm worried about Keith. I get that he's likely reacting on pure instinct, but for it to continue for this long? And he hasn't eaten anything since that last battle, that can't be good for him.”

“That's the worst injury he's suffered since trying to form Voltron the first time after T-day,” Lance responded after his turn; though his back was still tender, he had at least gone back to wearing his shirt, keeping his jacket tied around his waist and foregoing the bed sheet. “Though I agree, this is getting worrisome.”

“When was the last time someone checked on him?” Shiro asked, not looking up from the board as he planned his move.

“I did about three vargas ago,” Pidge answered as she fiddled with a game piece. “He didn't respond to my touch, but other than that he seemed fine.”

“It's my turn then,” Hunk said, standing. “Since Shiro takes forever to make his move, I'll check on him now.”

“I do not,” Shiro protested, looking up from the board just as Hunk was leaving.

Reaching Keith's room, he knocked. “Keith?” As usual, there was no response. As usual, the door was left unlocked. When it opened, as usual, the lights were dim. However, to his surprise, Keith was not on his bunk. The sling and the other device that was over his shoulder were on the floor and Keith was rubbing his back against the corner of his bunk while scratching at his face; he did not seem to notice that Hunk was even there. “Keith?!”

Keith stopped, startled. His tongue flicking in and out rapidly for several seconds before he fled to his bathroom, attempting to pull his long tail with him but was unable to fit his entire self in the small cramped space. “Keith, it's me!” Hunk called out quietly, cautiously walking into the room. “It's Hunk.” The troll dared to turn the lights up. What he could see of Keith's tail, he noticed an opaque film covering it and there were dried pieces of something on the floor. “Keith? Are you alright?”

“I... I can't get it off...” came a quiet reply. “It's tight and uncomfortable... and I can't get it off.”

“Get what off?” the troll asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew what it was.

“Isn't it obvious?” Keith replied, annoyed; a warning hiss in his tone.

“Right, right. You, uh, want some help?”

Keith was quiet for several minutes. Hunk patiently waited, though he tapped his fingers together out of worry. Slowly, black tongue flicking madly in and out of his mouth, Keith emerged from the bathroom. He didn't say anything, just looked at the floor, arms limp at his sides. And he didn't move very far away from the doorway. Hunk could see small flakes of the skin peeling away from the naga's face as well as harsh abrasions where Keith's claws had scratched against his softer skin.

Hunk took in a deep breath and relaxed his arms. “Okay. First, we should move to a bigger room. Second, I think we need to find Coran.” He turned to leave the room, expecting Keith to follow. A small voice stopped him though. “Hunk... I can't see.”

Whipping around, Hunk quickly got close to Keith, putting his large hands on the naga's shoulders. “Look up,” he instructed. Keith complied and Hunk could instantly see a thick milky something covering Keith's eyes. “Definitely need to find Coran.”

Lance knocked on the door before opening it. “Hunk, what's keeping you? It's your tur- Keith!?”

Keith frowned. “What? I can feel you staring.”

“Sorry, sorry. It's good to see you're up and moving and awake and stuff.”

“Just stop avoiding the elephant in the room, Lance.”

“Keith needs help getting his old skin off,” Hunk interrupted before the arguing could get started.

“You know about soaps being toxic to reptiles, and yet you don't know how they get old skin off?” Lance asked, dumbfounded.

Keith folded his arms, glaring in Lance's direction. “I've never seen a reptile shed, so no. And no, it wasn't detailed in school either. The only thing that the herpetologist said was that some lizards ate their old skin as they shed it.”

Lance shook his head in disbelief. “What we need to do is get you into some water,” he instructed, moving out of the room fully expecting to be followed. “Come on, let's go to the giant bathroom that I use to wash up in.” He had stepped away about one length from the door before stopping so his teammates could catch up. When they didn't, he raised an eyebrow. “Guys?”

Hunk backed out of the room, arms out towards Keith who slowly made his way out, stopping at the entryway, hands on the frame on either side. “You're acting like you're blind, Keith,” Lance complained.

“It's because I am!” Keith hissed loud and strong.

“Oh. I'm sorry... I should have kept my mouth shut.” Thinking for a moment, he knelt down. “Hop on. The faster we can get you out of that skin the faster you will be back to yourself. You're even more grouchier than usual.”

“Lance...” Hunk warned as Keith moved forward, tongue acting as his eyes, as much as it could anyway. When he found Lance, he hefted himself up onto the centaur's back, wrapping his tail around him like he had the first time he got a ride back during their first hunting excursion. Standing, Lance immediately headed towards the giant bathroom. Hunk followed. His phone dinged; it was Pidge sending a text just as they got close to the elevator.

[Where are you?]

[Sorry, sorry. Keith's in a bad state; apparently snake people shed too. And he can't get his old skin off by himself so Lance is taking him to that big bathroom Coran fixed up for him to use and we're going to help him get it off.]

[Gross. I'll let Shiro know. And I'll also try to keep him here and calm. The two of you plus Keith in a bathroom is going to be cramped enough without him there.]

[Okay. Thanks.]

“Pidge?” Lance asked as they moved into the elevator.

“Who else? Only the three of us have texting ability in the castle.”

“Hopefully Shiro won't freak out,” Keith mumbled.

“Pidge is going to do her best to keep him calm,” Hunk replied.

The elevator dinged. Keith's tongue flicked out instantly, picking up unfamiliar scents. “Where are we?”

“In a part of the castle used for the larger ambassadors and guests,” Lance answered. Four rooms down the hallway, he palmed a sensor. The door opened to reveal a grand bedroom with a large bed, fixtures that indicated that drapes were to be hung at the head of the bed, a dusty lush couch, a modest dressing table with a cracked mirror and a three-legged stool under it, and faded rugs on the floor. “This way,” Lance said, waving Hunk over. The bathroom was in better shape. Everything was clean and polished, and there was a tub that could fit Lance comfortably inside it. And there were even steps on the side. Apparently, the toilet was in a separate room because Hunk could not find one.

Without being told, Keith moved off Lance. Once he was off, Lance reached over to the faucet and turned the water on. As the tub filled, he removed his shirt and set it where it wouldn't get wet. Hunk fidgeted. “What should I do?”

“Wait for now.” The tub ready, Lance shut off the water. “Okay, Keith. In you go.”

“How is a bath going to help?”

“It will soften your dead skin so we can peel it off in bigger pieces. That and it should be a lot easier to get off.”

Keith responded with a surprised expression but said nothing. Slowly, he slithered up the steps and into the bath, finding the temperature about equal to his own. Instinctively, he coiled up and rested on his tail, the water coming up to his chin. Suddenly, he felt something wet being draped over his back and jerked, startled. Though he couldn't see, he whipped his head to look over his shoulder anyway. “Chill. It's just a wet towel.”

Settling back down, he asked, “How long do I need to be in here?”

“What? Is the water too cold? Too hot?”

“It's fine.”

“Well, I'm just guessing but, fifteen doboshes? I think you'll know better than Hunk or me.”

“I didn't even know to get in the water in the first place.”

“Trial and error then. If we can't get the old skin off easily, you'll need to soak longer.”

Keith nodded his understanding. For several moments it was quiet. Hunk decided to give voice to a question that was coming to mind as he studied the naga. “Hey, Keith. Can you still feel stuff that touches your scar? I know you don't want to talk about how you got it, but with how big it is, I'm curious if you've got a numb spot.”

Keith's scar was void of scales and had the appearance of thick stretched skin that was a plum purple color against the sunset array of the majority of his body. Not moving, the naga answered, “Kind of? I can feel pressure, but not hot and cold and light touches.”

Hunk hummed his understanding.

Subconsciously, Keith began to pick at his face again. Lance swatted his hand away. “Don't do that!”

“But, there's some on my face too.”

“And it needs to soften up like the rest of it. Either hold your breath and put your face in the water or I'll get you a wet rag.”

Keith decided to dunk his face. Taking in a deep breath, he moved backward off his tail and submerged his entire self. Apparently, he could hold his breath for a time longer as a naga because Lance was suddenly yanking him out of the water. Sputtering, he glared. “What?”

“You were under there for seven doboshes! I wanted to make sure you hadn't drowned!”

“I'm fine.”

Quiet Hunk spoke up. “How long can you hold your breath now, do you know?”

“No. Longer than seven doboshes I'm sure.”

“We can find out later. That skin on your face looks eager to come off.”

Keith instantly rubbed his palms over his face, the now softened skin rolling tightly on itself and when it could no longer roll, it fell off into the water. “Keith, that's gross!” Lance complained.

“Which brings the question, where are we going to stick the rest of his skin?” Hunk asked, looking around the bathroom.

“In the corner, I guess, until we can get it to the incinerator.” Addressing Keith, Lance asked, “How do you feel?”

“The skin is still tight everywhere else, but my face feels better.”

“Keep your neck submerged then,” Lance instructed as he re-wet the towel.

It was quiet in the bathroom for a while. More than fifteen doboshes had passed, but no one was in a rush. Hunk perked up though when Keith started to visibly squirm. “You okay?”

“The skin is soft enough to come off, I'm sure of it because it feels different,” the naga replied, moving slowly out of the tub, the towel sliding off his back and onto his tail as he tracked a bit of water onto the floor. Though still blind, he moved over to the entryway and began to rub his back left and right against the frame. He was marginally successful at getting the skin to start to separate from his scales. At the same time, he was rubbing his right hand along his left forearm, managing to dislodge the skin from there but not start it peeling.

“Hey hey! Hold up hot-head!” Lance scolded. He had unstopped the tub and then approached with two washcloths, handing one to Hunk. “Hold still. I'm going to pull a dry rag against your back to start getting it to peel off. Rubbing against a door frame will take longer. Hunk, help him get his arms started.”

“Gotcha.”

“I'm sure the Ibabi are able to do this themselves somehow,” Keith complained.

“They don't travel in space, right? They likely have a rougher terrain to rub up against, unlike the smooth walls of a spaceship,” Lance answered, dragging the rag half way down Keith's back before moving it to the top and dragging it down again. After the third repetition, the skin separated from Keith's hairline just enough for Lance to grab hold of it with his fingers and pull it down gently so as to keep it in one piece as long as possible.

“How do you know how to help a snake shed,” Keith asked after a bit.

“Honestly, I'm just winging it.”

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down.” The skin started to tear, when it reached Keith's shoulders, so Lance paused and worked with them instead, using the same dragging method to get the skin to pull away from the scales underneath. “See, when maintaining human skin, you always want to keep it hydrated. However, when it does get dry and starts to flake, one way to remove the dead skin is to exfoliate. Or, if it's in a larger area, soak it so it's easier to rub off instead of peeling it off by bits and pieces. For example, when you get a pedicure, you usually soak your feet in warm water for a bit so the dead skin softens up, and then you go at it with a rough surface like a pumice stone.”

“Oh! Like what we did with your back the other day! Only, we used dry towels instead of those stone things,” Hunk interjected. “That was nasty.”

“It was, but it made the job faster,” Lance laughed, moving to Keith's other shoulder. “Since snakeskin is tougher than human skin, the pieces come off bigger.”

“What happened to your back?” Keith asked as Hunk freed an edge of the dead skin from the naga's arm, grabbed it lightly and started to pull it away.

“It got burned by a plant that doesn't play nice with water. I'll tell you the details later,” the centaur answered. Having worked enough of the skin off, he started to pull it slowly away from Keith's scales. The naga rolled his shoulders in relief.

Hunk cleared Keith's left arm of the dead skin and moved around to get at the right. “Uh, what should we do about the cast?”

“Leave it alone. The small amount of dead skin underneath it isn't going to bother me much, I think,” Keith replied. Hunk nodded and worked on the upper arm, the skin starting to peel sooner due to Lance having worked in the area already.

Lance had gotten to Keith's hips when the skin became too large to be pulled and tore. So he tossed it into the corner. An idea came to him as he studied the next part of the skin. “Hey, Keith. Take Hunk's rag and rub the front of yourself, get that section of skin peeling. Once it does, we'll try and push it down so you can slide out of it in one piece. Kind of like slipping out of some pants, except it's more like a giant sock now.”

Understanding the need for Keith's personal space, Hunk immediately handed Keith his rag, physically taking his friend's arm and pressing the rag into his hand so he wouldn't have to search for it. Keith promptly went to work. In a few passes, he was able to get the skin to roll away from his hips and front. Dropping the rag to his side, he dragged his hands across the skin, pushing it down while Lance worked behind him; Hunk moved the wet towel to the steps on the side of the tub. “Okay, Keith, stop. Get down as low as you can. Hunk, move to the other side and hold the skin.”

Keith 'sat' down, sensing Hunk move to his right while Lance laid belly down on his left. Feeling the slight pressure of their hands on him, he began to move forward, hands searching in front of him so he wouldn't run into anything. He continued to slither out the door into the bedroom, the old skin turning inside out as it came off of him. When the rest of his tail pulled free of the stuff, he flexed every part of it, sending small shivers down its length and silently relishing the feeling of being able to breathe and move freely again. Turning around and moving back towards the bathroom by following his tail, he smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

“Glad to help, Keith,” Hunk answered. “But, what about your eyes?” He looked at Lance.

Lance was gathering up the skin so he could toss it in the corner. “No idea. We're going to have to ask Coran for suggestions on that one.”

“You've still got dead skin on your hands,” Hunk pointed out. Keith instantly started to pick at his left hand. “Here, let me,” the troll prompted, holding another rag in one hand while extending his other to the naga. Keith relented and held his hands out for Hunk to work on. He rubbed from the base of Keith's wrist and down the back of his hand, going with the lay of the scales like before, even though the points of his scales on his fingers were absent and said scales looked more like cobblestone in shape. The skin had dried a bit and was more stubborn coming off. While he worked, Lance took Keith's other hand to work on. “I don't think we should leave the skin in the corner. We should take it with when we leave to find Coran. Or better yet, Keith, maybe you and Lance should go to the infirmary while I find him.” Hunk finally succeeded in pulling the stubborn skin free of the parts of Keith's hand that he could. Keith flexed his fingers in response.

“It would be nasty to leave it, yeah. And it's probably better to move it while it's still wet so it doesn't break apart and leave a trail,” Lance commented, finishing up with Keith's other hand.

“No offense to you guys, but if this happens again, I'm finding a way to do it myself,” Keith voiced in a deadpan tone.

“What, are you embarrassed?” Lance teased.

“No...” Keith lied in a quiet voice.

“Whatever.” Lance rolled up the skin while Hunk grabbed the centaur's shirt and the used linens, making sure to keep the two separate. “You want to hitch a ride again, Keith?”

“No. Just... let me put my hand on your shoulder or arm or something.”

“You can walk next to me,” Hunk offered.

Keith backed out of the bathroom and waited for Hunk's lead, his black tongue flicking in and out at regular intervals. Lance followed, carrying the large amount of shed skin in his arms. There was a laundry chute just passed the door of the room and Hunk sent the used linens down it. Opposite the laundry chute was a refuse chute on the wall across the hallway. Lance looked at the bundle in his arms. “I don't think this will fit in there and not get stuck.”

“No choice but to hang onto it for now.”

“Gross.”

“If you're going to whine about it, give it to me. It's my skin after all,” Keith commented, slightly annoyed.

“You need to keep at least one hand on Hunk to know where you're going. I'll deal.”

At the elevator, the trio found that someone else had used it while they were occupied elsewhere. Calling it, they were surprised to find Coran inside with a moderately sized blue metal box in his hands; probably a toolbox. After the few seconds it took the four to take in each other, Coran commented jovially, “Had a bad shed I see.”

Keith furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “You knew I would shed?”

“Well, it was a hunch. Other scaled races similar to the Ibabi that are more familiar at present do shed on a regular basis. It was difficult to determine if you were in a shedding phase or if you were just resting and allowing your body to heal when checking up on you.”

“Shedding phase?”

“Usually, when an individual like yourself begins to shed, they refuse food for several days and keep to small, dark places typically with a large water source nearby or in a moist environment, waiting for the old skin to begin sloughing off the new skin. When the old skin is ready to be shed, usually visually indicated by a matte or opaque color, the individual will spend a bit of time in water before using abrasive surfaces to break the old skin away so it can then be pulled off by being caught on the said rough surface.”

“So, you almost got it right,” Hunk said to Keith. “What about their eyes, Coran? Keith can't see because there is something covering his.”

“There is a different type of skin that covers the eyes to protect them in place of a third eyelid. It's more like a specialized cap that sits on the eye itself. Usually, it slides off with relative ease like the outer skin.”

Keith rubbed one of his eyes with the heel of his left hand. “It's stuck.”

“It's most likely too dry. If you aren't able to get it off, you do run the risk of damage to your vision or even permanent blindness.”

Keith was unnerved, not quite panicking, “How can I get it off?”

“Flush your eyes with water. If that doesn't work, meet me in the infirmary. There is a liquid solution we can try should the water fail to work.”

“Should we go back to the room?” Keith asked, looking over his shoulder back down the hall.

“There's an eyewash in the infirmary that would work better. And if it doesn't work, we're already there to use the other option,” Hunk answered.

“Meet you there. I'm going to find a bigger chute to put this through,” Lance replied, backing away from the elevator so Hunk could guide Keith in. It was slow going and involved a lot of bumping into the others with his tail while trying to get it completely in the tiny space. Coran forewent continuing to his original destination so the other two could get to theirs faster.

In the infirmary, in a section away from the patient beds in another room, standing against the wall, a single person decontamination shower and external eyewash station, still identifiable even though they had space aesthetic design to them, waited unobtrusively. “What are these doing here, Coran? Don't they belong in a chemical science lab or something?” Hunk queried.

“For the same purpose they would be used for in the said lab. Only instead of caustic chemical exposure, these would be used in case of unknown biological fluid exposure.” Coran set his box down on a counter a few lengths away from the stations. Hunk guided Keith to the eyewash and took the naga's hand, placing it on the large lever that would turn the water on. He promptly did so, using his tongue to find the water before sticking his face in it, doing his best to keep his eyes open against the instinctual response to immediately close them. The water was cold but the thick skin covering them buffered some of the shock.

When he felt that he had gone through enough torture, he pulled away and released the lever. Blinking the water away, he rubbed at his eyes again, feeling something slightly shift around on the surface. He had never worn contact lenses before but had a suspicion that what he was feeling on his eyes now was most likely very close to that. “Something shifting around,” he commented.

“Don't rub at it! You'll scratch the sensitive parts of your eyes!” Coran warned. Keith stopped, turned around and looked straight ahead, waiting for further instruction. “Push gently against your eye from your lower lid. The cap should pop off enough for you to remove it with your fingers.”

Mindful of his claws, Keith pushed up against his left eye. Almost instantly he felt that strange thing on his eye literally pop off with a bit of resistance, but when he went after it, it fell back into place. So he looked up a bit and pushed again, popping the lens-like skin once more, and looked down, letting his eyelid catch the annoying thing so he could grasp it with his other hand. Eye liberated, it began to water a bit, causing him to blink rapidly to both soothe it and clear his vision. Before proceeding to remove the next one from his other eye, he looked closely at the offending matter. It really did look a bit like a huge contact lens, just not very clear and almost inflexible.

“Mind if I look at that?” Hunk asked. Keith extended it out to the troll to take. “Go ahead. I need both hands to get the other one off.”

Hunk carefully took the cap, turning it over and over. “This looks like a huge contact lens. A bit like those theatrical ones where they cover up the whole eye for special effects.” He placed it in his open palm and gently poked it with his large finger. “Not very malleable. Modern lenses are much softer than these.”

Keith had fished the other cap off and was once again blinking rapidly. “I don't understand why people intentionally put something like this on their eye. Even if it is to correct their vision. Getting these off hurts.”

“You've probably irritated the sensitive tissues. Let me get you some drops to soothe that and prevent permanent damage,” Coran responded, stepping away.

“Those who use contacts eventually get used to them,” Hunk commented. “Most of them anyway.”

“Hunk, you still have my shirt with you?” Lance's voice called from the other room.

“Yeah buddy, sorry.”

Lance appeared wearing his signature jacket now that his arms weren't full of snake shed. It was even zipped up. Hunk extended his shirt out to him which the centaur immediately accepted but did not proceed to put on. He noticed Keith head back to the room with the patient beds, following Coran. “You can see now?”

“Yeah.”

“He had snake contacts on his eyes. Huge ones,” Hunk supplied.

“Gross,” Lance commented.

“Wanna see?” Hunk held up the one Keith had handed him. Lance hesitantly took it with the fingertips of his free hand and brought it close to his face to study it. The outer edge of the cap was not perfectly smooth, he noticed, nor was the cap perfectly round. “How did he get these off? The edge of this looks like it was torn away from something.”

“That explains why he said it hurt.” Hunk headed towards the main room followed by Lance who promptly tossed the cap into the biological waste basin. They caught Keith leaning his head back while Coran was administering some solution to his eyes with a glass dropper. There was a bit of clean gauze in the naga's hand so he could dab away the liquid and tears that trickled out. The two waited patiently for them to finish. As Keith dabbed his eyes, Lance asked, “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Hungry?” Hunk asked.

“A little. But first, Coran, I couldn't get the skin under the cast because, well, I figured that it was something that you needed to work with.”

“Ah! Of course,” the Altean answered as he returned the eyedrops to their proper cabinet. Keith offered his arm and Coran worked with it, taking great care not to pull at Keith's scales as he removed it. “You can remove the skin. But, be careful and quick about it.”

Keith tried to roll the skin on itself, however, because of the cast, the skin was not exposed to the water and was dry and brittle, so it just flaked. He slithered over to a wastebasket and continued to peel the skin away in tiny pieces, like peeling away the dead skin of a sunburn. He took care not to rotate his arm too much, concerned about disrupting whatever healing his bones had already done. When most of the skin was off, he rubbed his arm vigorously, going with the grain of his scales, to knock loose the stubborn bits. Cleared, he offered his arm back to Coran who promptly replaced the cast.

“Come on, Keith. Let's get you something to eat,” Hunk said, lightly poking Keith's stomach. “And then, why don't you come to join us for a board game?”

“Stop that,” Keith replied, shoving Hunk's hand away. “Food does sound great though.”

“We'll catch you up on what's happened while you slept,” Lance added as they left the infirmary.

“I want to grab my clothes and belt first.”

“Can do.”

Hunk pulled out his phone to update Pidge. [Keith's okay now, and hungry. So the three of us are headed to the kitchen. Why don't you and Shiro take a break and join us?]

[Sounds good. We can put together some snacks too.] Pidge replied. Then a second later the message was followed by another text. [Meet you there.]

**Author's Note:**

> I have some ideas for gross situations for Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro that I may write at a future time. They would be added to this as subsequent chapters.
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> Constructive criticism and comments are appreciated.


End file.
